Watching Him Sleep
by HoneyBMirriB
Summary: Draco likes watching Harry sleep. H/D, mentions of sex, fluff, OOC-ness


**First piece of work up :) Hopefully you guys like it and I haven't made a mess of it. It's meant to be fluff but with mentions of sex ;)**

**It's AU from the end of 4th year, but it is set after their graduation.**

**Oh, and I don't own anyone or anything you guys recognise. They belong to The Lady's creation, J.K. Rowling.**

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Draco loved watching Harry sleep. He would wake up in the middle of the night and watch the elfin body in his arms, sleeping contentedly.

There was nothing of the battle wearied Saviour in his slumber. All the frown lines on his forehead smoothed out, leaving a peaceful, innocent teen, almost childlike in his sleep, his head resting on Draco's chest, half-clutching his blonde lover to him.

Draco raised his head slightly to look at the desk in the corner, rolls of parchment. That's how it had started, this whirlwind, almost fairytale romance. His father had got a letter from Arabella Figg, the Squib who lived close to where the Saviour lived with his relatives, during Draco's summer after his fifth year.

His nose wrinkled, a hand coming up slowly to stroke Harry's hair. Oh that hair. It was the unusualness of the locks that had first piqued his interest. Unlike Draco, who carefully styled his hair to perfection every morning, Harry did nothing to tame the mop of messy locks, knowing it was all in vain.

Nevertheless, he always managed to look perfect, a just-shagged look to his hair. But now it was authentic. Draco smiled indulgently, remembering that night's activities. He would be surprised if Harry woke up in time for his meeting with the Minister. No matter.

Draco's faintly leonine features contorted into a sneer. It wasn't as if the Ministry had ever helped Harry, calling him a liar in his fifth year, then leaving him on his own with _that_ family.

As soon as his father had read the letter, he had leapt up and turned to Draco. "It seems that Mr Potter is in need of some rescuing Draco." Draco, who had developed a crush on Harry in their third year, had all but ripped the parchment out of his father's hand, reading like it was a map to a well bestowed to a man dying of thirst.

Five minutes later, two blonde figures were striding up Privet Drive, the early morning sun making their hair glint. Mrs. Taylor of Number Six would later swear that they looked like angels of death, the way their clothes billowed around them.

Lucius had blasted the front door down and performed a quick point-me spell before letting Draco find Harry, staying downstairs to deal with the bellowing uncle, hysterical aunt and their squeaking whale of a son.

Draco shuddered, then held himself still, allowing Harry to shift without waking up. The smell of blood still came to mind as he remembered seeing the Saviour in all his shattered glory, beaten, bloodied and broken on the small bed.

Instinctively, he'd healed Harry before pulling him up into his arms, bridal-style. He'd carried the unconscious teen downstairs, then moved to his father who had rested a hand on his sons shoulder, transporting them back to their mansion.

But Harry wouldn't wake up, despite their best attempts, just laid there, comatose and motionless. It had scared Draco and Lucius to no end; Lucius saw Harry as his ticket out of Azkaban, and Draco...at this point, he would've robbed the Tower of London without magic for Harry.

Draco clutched Harry closer, nuzzling the smaller boy's hair. Then twelve days after they had rescued him, Draco had been sleeping beside Harry, waiting desperately for him to wake up when he woke up to Harry kissing him, eyes closed in ecstasy.

From there, it had been heaven. His mother and father were delighted that he had found a powerful and influential partner and Draco knew that no one would be able to separate them. Ever.

He felt a slight stirring and he looked down to watch emerald green eyes open, sleepy and sated, before they softened with affection and love. "Did you dream nice dreams?" Draco asked, leaning down to give Harry a kiss. It was chaste, with none of the fervour and lust that had fuelled the kisses last night.

"Mmm. I was dreaming about us flying." Harry smiled, hand moving to stroke patterns on his lover's chest. "I felt you protecting me, watching me." Draco ran a hand through Harry's hair. "Of course. Always."

**Aw, so sweet. Alright, listen. There is a green and white button just below these words. So, you guys know what to do with it. **


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